


Party Games

by lferion



Category: RPF - American Idol S8
Genre: Counted Word Fic, Drabble Sequence, Gen, Poetry, Yuletide, Yuletide 2009, mansion-fic, yule-treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-23
Updated: 2009-12-23
Packaged: 2017-10-05 03:19:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/37249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lferion/pseuds/lferion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Top 10 play a party game at the behest of the powers that be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Party Games

**Author's Note:**

  * For [clionaeilis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/clionaeilis/gifts).



> My thanks, as always, to Auberus, this time especially for telling me the poetry was true even when it was hard. My thanks to Clionaeilis, too, for the prompt and letter that sparked this.
> 
> Michael Sarver really does keep track of how many songs he's written, but I did not investigate precisely which numbers he was up to at the times in the story.
> 
> The reader is invited to work out who wrote what for whom — the key is in the End Note (Chapter 2). The bits between the poems are all drabbles, precisely 100 words each, according to my count.

"They want us to _what?_" Danny is incredulous, coming into the lounge where everyone has been gathered, the whole of the now Top 10.

"Write something, song lyrics or poetry, preferably," Adam is lying back in the corner of one of the couches, next to — of course — Kris. His feet are bare, propped up on the low coffee-table. His toe-nail polish matches the stuff on his fingers, a shimmering deep blue. "About or for one of your fellow-adventurers." He's got one of the laptops open, propped against his thighs. His jeans look really snug.

Danny snatches his eyes away.

***

_Kris, why do you tease him?_   
_It really isn't fair_   
_He's got enough to deal with,_   
_~~(He knows you won't go there)~~ What with cameras, clothes and hair_   
_[Is the plaid on purpose? /Do you sit close on purpose]_   
_[How close you sit a dare? /Is the plaid a dare?]_   
_I know you saw those photos,_   
_~~ (That kissing one! Oh dear)~~ (We all did, you were there)_   
_Is it more than friendship?_   
_~~ We all know that you~~ Oh boys, please ~~have a~~ do take care._

***

Matt bounces over to hand Danny an envelope with his name on it, another to Sarver, coming in after him. "They drew names for who got who. I'm hoping there won't be a test."

"Yeah, or grades!" Allison pipes up from where she's sitting sideways in an armchair, magenta head bent over viridian notebook. (Danny hadn't known viridian was a word, much less that it was a kind of color until Adam had teased her about it, covering his eyes and squealing "Viridian, Alli-cat? Poison-green at this hour of the morning?" when she'd first pulled it out last week.)

***

_You're a spark of light  
A fire-sprite  
Magenta bright and burning_

_You'd think the guy  
With made-up eye  
Had bought the dye and notebook_

_But your scarlet head  
It must be said  
Was that red when I met you._

***

"They're not going to grade us, people. It's a party game, not schoolwork" Lil and Megan are at the table near the window, Lil her usual collected self, Megan biting her pencil, both looking amused. "But I wouldn't expect most of you boys to have been at many baby showers."

"Bet they'll make us 'show' our work, though," Scott says, deadpan, and pretty much everyone laughs.

"Oh God, I bet you're right, though," says Anoop, glancing up from his own keyboard. "Isn't that the point of the game?"

Megan scribbles through what she's written and turns to a new page.

***

_Anoop Desai, you are so sly  
Scott's chocolate you did steal  
I know this 'cuz the sugar buzz  
Is loud enough to feel.  
My words are true, my hair is blue,  
It's backwards-day fo' real_

***

Danny glances down at the envelope in his hand, almost afraid to open it. He doesn't know how he feels about any of these people, even though he's known them for weeks now, ever since Semifinals began with a Top 36 that didn't include Jamar. Or Sophia in the audience to cheer him on. They've made him write about Adam, he's sure of it. He can see an 'A' through the paper. Adam who Danny just can't wrap his brain around, with his ridiculous voice, ridiculous clothes, ridiculous (ungodly) and happy comfort in himself.

The name isn't Adam's. Thank God.

***

_Sophia's heart lies heavy in your breast  
Exchanged upon her knowing she must leave  
You lonely, in your house of dreams a guest;  
Your heart you buried with her, lest you grieve  
Your own self stricken, and all her hopes unborn.  
But you will not let that happen. Her heart lives:  
It frees the voice she loved, and, promise-sworn  
You brave the odds with all the strength love gives.  
Now here you are, on 'Idol,' singing songs  
That do not - cannot - take the pain away,  
Though just by forging onward there are throngs  
Who have and wish for you a brighter day.  
    Hold fast the gift that loving you she gave:  
    Sophia's heart will ne'er lie in a grave._

***

"Why d'you suppose they're having us do this now? Wouldn't the first week have made more sense? Top 13?" Michael is genuinely puzzled. Danny can tell he's not happy with the name he's drawn.

"Well, we _are_ all going to be sharing a stage, a bus — two busses — and sundry greenrooms for three months come summer, no matter what happens in the next eight weeks." Adam's light voice is tinged with something Danny can't quite place, doesn't understand, though Kris recognizes the dry note.

Scott does as well. "Maybe they want to make sure we won't turn feral in captivity."

***

_Scott sees the colors of music,  
The sunrise-light and glow of chords,  
Murals, tapestries of sound,  
Hands shaping notes painted bright  
Fingers coaxing beauty from silent keys._

_Scott sees with all his senses,  
Lives where taste and touch  
Scent and felt vibration  
Hold unseen wonders,  
Tell tales that we,  
Dependent on our eyes and  
Blind  
To other beauties,  
Can never know._

_Scott sees in sound._

***

Sarver nods, forgetting that Scott cannot see the gesture. "There is that." His laugh is a little uncomfortable. "I think we all get along alright, though." He sighs, shaking his head at his slip of paper. Adam. Of course. Michael writes songs all the time (Number 793 yesterday, in the limbo of results night) but the word play of his fellow-idols baffles him sometimes. Lambert is the most baffling of all.

Megan grins up at him. "Come sit here with us. Lil and I won't bite. Much." Her eyes are bright. Michael is glad she's gotten over the 'flu.

***

_There are stories in her eyes  
Inked on her skin  
Tucked in her sleeve  
Curled and combed in her Rapunzel hair  
Goldilocks is singing with the bears  
(Are you a bear? No, I'm a Tigger, bears are over there.)  
There are stories in her stories  
Laughing, quirky  
Sad and not-sad  
Tales elusive as a pantry-ghost  
(Or is it gremlins? Aliens, I think, or sunbeam-motes.)  
But it's the stories in her eyes that matter most._

***

Well, so song number 794 will be for (or about) Adam. Michael sits and pulls out his own notebook and pen. "How long have we got to write?"

"The Lyndseys said they'd be back in forty minutes, so about half an hour?" Kris pecks diligently at his keyboard, then frowns and grabs for his writing pad instead. Without moving his eyes from the screen, Adam hands him the pencil that had fallen to the floor when Kris put it down earlier. Kris takes it with a smiling thanks and a shoulder-bump.

Michael feels his face heat and looks away.

***

_What's with the polish, brother? The eyeliner, the hair?  
Don't you know it's dangerous?  
That people stop and stare?  
Stop and stare,  
Stop and stare,  
Dangerous attention,  
When you [walk/strut] without a care  
Dangerous for you, they stop and stare._

_Dangerous for you, oh be aware._

_Now flash onstage is one thing, for cameras and show  
And your voice is something special  
As you most surely know  
Surely know,  
Surely know,  
But diff'rent isn't safe  
Past the stage-door's welcome glow  
Dangerous for you, you surely know._

_Dangerous for you, oh be aware._

_There's men that just aren't willin  
To give men like you a chance  
Who think you might need ~~killin~~ chillin,  
Who don't wanna see you dance  
To the music sweet and slow  
But the shotgun or the blow  
They'd like to lay you low  
Break your pretty painted toe  
The look that's in their eye is not romance  
They'll put you in the ground without a glance_

_You don't know how it pains me, to see that [nightmare/vision] clear  
Don't want to watch you suffer  
Or see you live in fear  
Live in fear,  
Live in fear  
Suffer for a lifestyle  
Or invite a mother's tears  
Dangerous for you, to live in fear._

_Dangerous for you, oh be aware  
Dangerous for you, oh have a care._

***

Adam's fingers move in little bursts, spurts of words. There's an intensity of concentration in the angle of his mouth, the way his brows pull together. Kris could glance over, see what he's writing, but doesn't; Adam will show him when he's done. They know how to give each other mental space whatever their physical proximity.

For a while the room is quiet, key-clicks and the faint rustle of paper occasionally punctuated by someone tapping out a meter, nibbling on a pencil.

"Anyone have a rhyming dictionary?" Megan asks.

Anoop suggests she make something up. Michael hands her his.

***

_What would Sandburg, Eliot, Whitman make  
of Michael Sarver, Sulphur, Jasper's son?  
What exercise of pen, array of words would they jot down?  
What tune would Sondheim use to make his theme?_

_The little world you knew (sulphurous, hard)  
is broken by the stage,  
The invading camera-crew pushing back the greenscreen,  
Safe illusion of a set;  
The klieg-lights show a universe — The Universe —  
As larger, stranger, wonder-filled and vast  
Where paint and cloth and pixels are as real  
Or real-er  
Than the oil on that jumpsuit:  
Real as music  
Real as wanting more  
Than jottings in a notebook,  
Numbered, unsung songs._

_Are you large because your world is small?  
Can you, will you choose, to stretch to fit,  
To see a wider view?_

_I do not know.  
Perhaps I, too,  
Have need to grow._

***

The Lyndseys (R and K) reappear at the hour mark, to collect printout or notepaper from each of them. There is a certain amount of wincing and grinning among the Idols as the the pieces are read, and more of both when the Lyndseys solicit guesses as to who wrote what for whom.

"Well, that was … interesting." Anoop's wry comment breaks the silence after the PAs leave. The camera in the corner winks, recording.

"Actually, I think we should play it again. When we're about this far into the Tour." Megan's voice is thoughtful. "I think we all learned something."

***

_Oh, cameras in the kitchen, cameras in the hall  
I bet they bugged the bedrooms, the spa and sauna-stall  
They wanna see us bicker, they'd love to tape a brawl  
The Christians as the lions: a ratings free-for-all,  
But who has time for fighting? And **When** is early call?  
Lil! It's time for make-up, Kris, confessional _ (wow, **that** rhyme sucks)_  
We're much too rushed for anything, spinning like a ball.  
I say we help each other to stand the pace withal.  
It's music here that matters, and we'll be winners all  
When only one's left standing 'neath the confetti-fall_

***

"You think we should make a date to play this thing on the bus? Really?" Danny obviously isn't too fond of the idea, but the rest of them nod slowly.

"I'll put it in my calender, just to remind us. See if I don't." Matt pulls out his phone with a flourish and begins typing energetically. "Play silly party game on the bus. Email reminder, set alarm. Done." He looks up at his fellow Idols as he puts the phone away and suddenly grins. "Hey, we've still got an hour or so before we're needed anywhere. Who's for a swim?"

***

_There's a bright lad from Kalamazoo  
Who wears a fedora, it's true,  
And at the piano  
He is just the man-o  
To set all the girls in a stew._

* * *

Four months to the day later they are, indeed, barreling down the freeway between San Diego and Phoenix, eleven on the 'boy's bus', six on the girl's (counting Todd and Antonio, Neal the stylist and Security Ray — who for some reason the fans have dubbed Willie, as in Willie Nelson, which he finds dryly amusing — Monica and Angela and Allison's Mom), when Matt's phone goes off with the old time-check alarm. Matt checks the screen, briefly puzzled, then crows with laughter. The others look up at the sound.

"Hey, someone get the girls on speaker, it's party game time!"

***

_He's got fingernails all painted  
And it's sure he ain't a girl  
But come to be acquainted  
Oh, he'll give your mind a whirl_

_Eyes come open, open wide, let the wonder come inside_

_Oh he dresses kind of fancy  
Couldn't miss him on the street  
And he might make you feel antsy  
Singing songs both rude and sweet_

_Ears come open, open wide, let the wonder come inside_

_It's men he dates, not ladies,  
He wears rhinestones on his eyes  
Some might want him sent to Hades  
Try to cut him down to size._

_Hands come open, open wide, let the wonder come inside_

_I was quick to judge him 'other'  
I was slow to make amend  
Now I'm proud to call him brother  
And right grateful he's a friend_

_Heart come open, open wide, let the wonder come inside_

_For with 'Elvis' hair or 'emo'  
Eyes bare or lined with kohl  
In 'T's or 'couture-primo'  
He's a person of great soul._

_Break you open, open wide, let the wonder come inside_

***

Michael watches as Adam reads, hands gripped between his knees. He'd drawn Matt this time (slips of paper in Matt's fedora, Todd doing the honors) and written him something fun, but even while they were setting up the game, Michael knew he had to write this too.

Adam looks up, blinking hard, lashes damp. "Thank you," he says, swallowing. "Thank you." He's meeting Michael's eyes with that terrifying intensity of his. "I hope that I've learned from you too. And we _are_ friends." He pulls Michael into a hug, full-body, enveloping, unreserved.

Michael hugs him back just the same.


	2. End Notes

The key to the poems - Who wrote what for whom in the order they appear in the story.

1\. Megan wrote for Kris. The first piece in the story is what she scribbled out. I don't know what she wrote that got read.

2\. Danny wrote "Sprite" for Allison.

3\. Allison wrote the sextet about Anoop.

4\. Scott wrote the sonnet 'Sophia's Heart' for Danny.

5\. Lil wrote 'Colors of Music' for Scott.

6\. Matt wrote 'Stories in her Eyes' for Megan.

7\. Michael wrote Song 794 in regards to Adam. It actually is a whole song, with the bones of a tune and a bridge, though he didn't mark down the notation for the tune.

8\. Adam wrote 'Meditation' about Michael.

9\. Kris wrote "Cameras in the Kitchen". It was supposed to be for Lil, but the piece took on a mind of it's own and he ran with it. She likes it anyway.

10\. Anoop wrote the limerick about Matt.

11\. Song 822 Michael wrote for Adam as a bonus piece in the second round of the game that they played on the bus. It is in the form of a carol, with quatrains and a burden. It has a tune too.


End file.
